


Candy

by AlastorGrim



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriages, Candy, Identity Porn, Knight Theseus, M/M, Prince Albus Dumbledore, Prince Gellert Grindelwald, Stable Boy Newt Scamander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 11:32:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlastorGrim/pseuds/AlastorGrim
Summary: It wouldn't fit on tumblr so here it goes! For needycharcoal!





	Candy

**Author's Note:**

> It wouldn't fit on tumblr so here it goes! For needycharcoal!

_**Grindelnewt: Love/Candy, Painful Truth/Cruel vs. Defiant**_

 

Newt was on his daily rounds with the horses, guiding them around the pasture before they had to be cooped up back in the stables. Theseus had a meeting with King today, as the neighboring kingdom had come by to discuss the incident of last month. Namely, the death of Princess Ariana.

 

Ariana had been a shy thing, sweet but quiet, and perpetually ill. She would often wander about outside and sometimes venture in to talk with the horses and dogs. They had become fast friends over their mutual love for the outdoors and the creatures that inhabited it. Newt had cared for her deeply.

 

But on a trip last month with her mother, their carriage had been attacked by a band of black knights that had slaughtered everyone within the troupe. No one was spared.

 

It was obvious that it was retaliation from King Alajos, who had blamed their King for the death of his brother and sister-in-law. Their deaths had forced him into kingship, and it was public knowledge that he was very unhappy about it. Normally retaliating in such a brutal fashion would mean war, but consumed by grief for his wife and daughter, King Percival did not want to plunge the kingdom into even more despair.

 

Newt had heard from Theseus that they were organizing a peace treaty. One which signified a union between the two kingdoms—a wedding.

 

From what Newt could understand, the oldest prince, Albus, would be engaged to King Alajos’ nephew, Gellert. Newt had heard about him, the poor orphaned prince, but he had never seen him. He had to admit that he was curious. Would the German prince be welcoming of the engagement, or would he resent it? Newt knew that if he were to be used as a tool to peace, he would resent being pinned down.

 

Cheron whickered at him, snuffed at his curls, and Newt startled out of his thoughts with a laugh. Being a stable boy was not necessarily a grand job, but Newt liked being around the horses. He spoke more freely with them and the dogs than he ever did with people.

 

Penelope, dappled white and gray and known for her mischief, had already disappeared back inside the stables. A few others were loitering about the doors, reluctant to go back inside so soon. Newt sighed and scrubbed a hand over Cheron’s flank. “Sorry girl. I doubt Abe will be coming out today, he’s quite busy, I should think.”

 

He led her back into the stables, whistled at the others to get them to trot in as well. It was strange that Penelope had gone in so early; normally Newt had to get one of the collies to chase her back in because she wanted to play tag. Newt clicked the gate down behind Cheron for a moment so he could go around to the pump to fill up the trough. Humming, he wiped his rust-speckled palm on his trews and went back around to the gate.

 

Most everyone was where they were supposed to be, barring Ryan, who was trying to fit into a stall with Susie. Newt chuckled and led him back to his own stall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the doors to the stables had been left ajar.

 

Newt blinked. He hadn’t heard anyone come in, nor had he thought anyone would. Theseus was the General, so the knights shouldn’t be wandering about, and he already knew that the princes were busy with political business, so he couldn’t fathom just who would wander in to the royal stables.

 

He latched Ryan’s door and turned to see Penelope in the corner next to the end of the trough. A boy stood at her side, an apple in hand as he coaxed her into letting him pet her. The boy was tall and broad, perhaps four or five years older than Newt. He looked to be in his early twenties. He had long blond hair that fell in gold ringlets to his shoulders, dressed in all black with an oriental rapier belted to his side. He was murmuring something in a language Newt didn’t understand. “ _Schöne Sache._ ”

 

“Hello?” Newt tipped his head as the boy jumped, startled, and whipped around.

 

“ _Schöne Sache,_ ” The boy blurted once more, eyes wide as they alighted on Newt. Newt was stunned to see that they weren’t the same—one brilliant gold, and the other a deep blue. His face was slim and sharp, aristocratic. He blinked at Newt. “Ah, hello.”

 

“Are you supposed to be in here?” Newt said suspiciously, eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember seeing you before.” He didn’t want to call the guards, especially not when they were all busy with the treaty meeting.

 

A smirk curled the stranger’s lips. His accent was thick and rough. “Most likely not.” He turned back to Penelope and stroked down her back affectionately. “But I find myself at ease here.”

 

Newt pursed his lips. “Well...I guess as long as you’re not bothering anything. Don’t feed her anymore apples, or she won’t eat later.”

 

“Wait,” The stranger reached out and grasped Newt’s arm as he turned to leave. “You have a mo’?”

 

“...I suppose,” Newt relented after a pause. He yelped when the stranger abruptly yanked him down onto a bale of hay beside him.

 

“What is your name? Or shall I just call you ‘boy’?” He mused, a wicked twinkle in his eyes.

 

Newt bristled and yanked his arm away. “My name is Newt. Some of the knights call me Fido. You may use either, but if you call me ‘boy’ in such a rude tone again, I will urge Penelope to trample you.”

 

The stranger laughed, shocked and delighted, and leaned back on his own bale. “My name is...Gill,” He said after a moment. He glanced at Newt and grinned. “I like you.”

 

“Then you’re mad.” Newt huffed. Any previous hesitance to call the guards he’d had was quickly evaporating.

 

“I must be, yes,” And just like that, Gill suddenly looked very somber. He pursed his lips and glared at the ground. After another moment, he spoke again, “This business between the kingdoms, what do you think of it?”

 

Newt started a bit, throw off by the question. “You mean the peace treaty?”

 

“The engagement between the princes.” Gill clarified, still looking sour. The bright expression from earlier was gone.

 

“Oh, well,” Newt’s tongue felt heavy. “I don’t know, really. I think it would be good for the kingdoms, surely, keep us out of war. I hate violence.” Biting his lip, Newt swung his legs and sighed. “But I don’t think it’s fair to them. I can only imagine how Prince Grindelwald feels. I mean, I’ve known Albus since I was old enough to mount a saddle. He’s prideful—a bit arrogant—for all his chipper attitude, and he won’t appreciate being tied down like that. The palace already stifles him; he’s restless. Confining him to it so soon to his coming of age...” Newt shook his head.

 

Gill was staring at him, something flinty in his eyes. “What if I said it is for the good of the kingdom? That they could stand to be near one another so they could stand being married?”

 

Newt turned to scowl at him. “Then I would say you’re mad! They’re all mad! People should marry for _love_! I know I’m young and naive, as Theseus likes to say, but if they think that unhappy kings make for stronger kingdoms then they are _wrong_.”

 

By the end of his rant, Newt was breathing hard. He’d thought that since the whole thing had been announced, had known that it would hurt Albus to be so close to freedom only to have it stolen away by someone he did not even know. He had bottled it up, however, because what difference would it make, to have his opinion known? The princes may listen to him on occasion but their father would not.

 

Rattling paper sounded next to him, and he looked over to see Gill offering him a brightly colored sweet. Bemused, Newt raised his eyebrows at Gill.

 

“It is candy. _Erdbeere_. I thought you might like one after all that shouting,” Gill drawled, but his lovely eyes glimmered with something light. He had taken a handful of them from his pocket and put them in his lap. He waved the one he was holding, a red one, at Newt.

 

“I—thank you,” Newt took the candy, a bit disbelieving. A flush dusted his cheeks and embarrassment flooded his chest. Had he really shouted? He popped the candy in his mouth to distract himself.

 

“ _Bitte_ ,” Gill chirped, tossing up a green one and catching it in his mouth. He hummed. “Your views are naive. Hardly any monarch marries for love.” Newt flushed, went to protest, only to have Gill hold up a hand and smirk at him. He placed a blue candy into Newt’s slack palm and purred, “That is what concubines are for.”

 

Scarlet bloomed down Newt’s neck and painted his chest, such sensual notions having been kept from him by Theseus. To say such things about a monarch, no less, was downright scandalous. “Y-You can’t just say stuff like that!” Newt spluttered, ruffled.

 

Gill laughed, entirely too amused at Newt discomfort. He tipped his head. “Why not? It happens more often than not. Of course, it is improper to make the affair public, but everyone knows anyway. Spouses are for power, concubines are for pleasure,” He leaned forward then, fluttered his pale eyelashes in exaggerated seduction. “You would make a pretty one.”

 

His ears burned, but Newt couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I would make a terrible concubine!”

 

Gill’s smile widened. “How so?”

 

“Well, for one, I would have to serve under the King, and I am very bad at serving. Why do you think I’m out here?” Newt took the candy Gill had put in his hand and tucked it into his cheek with the other one.

 

“You like it out here?”

 

“I like being around the animals. The castle gets stuffy—I constantly crave fresh air. Being outside curbs my tendency to get into trouble, my brother claims. He approves of my job as much as any brother can.”

 

“I think I would like it too. I do not get outside much, though when I was younger I used to love going into the forest and looking for faeries.”

 

“Did you ever find any?”

 

“No, unfortunately,” Gill replied with a softer, much more genuine smile. He shifted to lean his shoulder on Newt’s and spread his hands out dramatically. “I frightened them away with my incessant talk of concubines.”

 

Newt giggled helplessly, amused. He went to put a hand over his mouth to hide his grin, only to have Gill’s hand stop him. The air stilled, suddenly heavy. Gill reached up and ghosted the pad of his thumb across Newt’s bottom lip. Newt swallowed, the last vestiges of the candies disappearing with it. He met Gill’s eyes, abruptly very nervous. “What are you—?”

 

Gill touched his forehead to Newt’s his hair falling in a springy golden curtain around them. “Can I?”

 

Newt felt very much like he had swallowed his tongue. He forgot he had the ability to breathe. He had never allowed someone to touch him like this. Hugs from his brother were pushing it. But for some reason, this lit his nerves up and made his skin tingle. The crass, condescending, golden man, who Newt knew almost nothing about, made him want to explore things that he had never had want of before.

 

Wetting his lips, Newt nodded once, heart in his throat. Gill made a happy noise and kissed him. It was...warm, and sweet. Lips parted and Newt tasted the sour tang of apple candy, along with undertones of autumn. It was a slow kiss, and by the end of it, Newt was light headed. He actually _had_ forgotten to breathe.

 

Gill pulled back slightly with a huff of air that sounded as breathless as Newt felt. He slid his hand into copper curls and tugged lightly. “My pavilion does not leave until next week. May I see you again?”

 

Newt hummed in the affirmative, dazed and buzzed. Gill chuckled and left him to his own devices once more, gone before Newt could open his eyes. It was only when he’d wandered over to Penelope and picked an apple stem out of her mane that he came back to himself.

 

He paled. “What have I gotten myself into?”

 

 

 

{•}

 

 

 

Gill kept coming back, though Newt had come to his senses about kissing _strangers_ and had diverted anymore advances since then. He wouldn’t lie, it was hard; Gill was very attractive. He had an odd sense of humor that always managed to startle a laugh out of Newt, and his poetic and bold way of speaking had Newt more than interested in him.

 

But Newt was not stupid. He knew how this story went.

 

A handsome young noble swaggers his way into a mere peasant’s life, charms them up, checks their V card, and vanishes back to his own land without so much as a goodbye. And he wanted Gill, truly feared he might even be falling for him, but Newt had more self-respect than to simply spread his legs for a spring love.

 

But...it was tempting. Gill was intelligent and always kind to the horses, had a particular fondness for the collies, and could talk about ancient lore for hours with Newt and never grow bored. Once, they’d spent the entire afternoon debating the morality of dragons.

 

Newt could stuff the knowledge deep down into the dark corners of his mind, but the bare truth was that he _wanted_. It was a vicious, carnal burn in his stomach that he could never remember feeling before.

 

Theseus came by every once and a while, seeming annoyed with the princes. Apparently Albus was too hyper to stand still for more than five minutes, Aberforth was sulking, and Prince Grindelwald shirked his meetings most days to disappear somewhere unknown. Given his brother’s complaints about the cold, cruel, pompous prince, Newt hoped he didn’t run into him on his rounds with the mares.

 

For the past few days however, Gill had been distant. His usually bright demeanor seemed to be dimming into something else. Something dark.

 

When Newt asked, the look always disappeared behind a brilliant grin and he was offered yet another candy. Gill seemed to have an endless supply of them, his deep pockets always full of the brightly colored treats. Newt was quickly coming to crave them.

 

Today was grim. It was the last day that the German pavilion would be in Scotland. It was already late afternoon, and Gill had yet to come and say goodbye. Newt was brushing Cheron and telling himself that he didn’t care, that this was what he expected, and that he most definitely was not despaired by it. He _wasn’t_.

 

There was a small flicker of doubt alongside his slight satisfaction at holding onto his chastity—what if he was wrong? What if he should have allowed Gill to take his advances further? Would he have come to say goodbye then?

 

Newt shook himself free of the thought. “Of course not,” He murmured to himself as he tugged out knots in Cheron’s tail. “You are not some-some _harlot_. Dealing out physical favors would’ve only brought trouble. You are not a convenient sex toy for bored noblemen to use at their leisure. You are a respectable young man with a prospering job.”

 

_And you miss him already._

 

Newt wrangled the traitorous little voice and smothered it down. Cheron whickered softly.

 

The doors to the stable abruptly banged open, and Newt bolted to his feet immediately. Wide hazel eyes took in the cluster of severe looking men dressed in black before him, the crest of Grindelwald on their breast pockets. Knights. King Alajos stood regally at the head of them, a familiar figure beside him.

 

Gill was scowling murder at Newt and holding the right side of his face, bruised and bloodied, in a protective stance. He straightened up and thrust an arm at Newt. “That is him. The _Primitivling_ that attacked me!”

 

Newt gaped at him in disbelief, struck dumb. “What?”

 

King Alajos looked Newt up and down with a sneer. He turned to a man behind him that Newt hadn’t noticed before. The stablehand abruptly paled. King Percival.

 

“ _Dummer Junge._ Were you aware that your servants had such violent tendencies, Dumbledore? Attacking my nephew just after we finished the peace treaty—this could be considered an act of war.”

 

“I’m well aware, Grindelwald,” Percival gruffed, his tired eyes narrow and pinched at the corners. “There’s no need for any extreme measures. I can offer him over to your jurisdiction.”

 

Newt’s stomach dropped. King Alajos raised an eyebrow, intrigued as well as faintly disappointed. “Would you?”

 

King Percival shrugged. “It’s only a stable boy.”

 

Finding his voice, his spine, Newt held out his hands. “W-Wait! I haven’t done anything!”

 

Cold gray eyes turned on him, filled with disdain and a bit of amusement. “Are you calling my nephew a liar, peasant?”

 

“I didn’t know who he was!”

 

“So you admit that you attacked me?” Gill—Gellert, _Prince Gellert_ , sweet Swooping Evil—drawled with a glare.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Newt breathed, unable to shout as he wanted to. His chest was hot with pain. It choked him.

 

Gill—Gellert didn’t answer. King Alajos flapped a hand dismissively at Newt. “ _Nehmen Sie ihn weg._ We’ll decide what to do with him back in Nurmengard. Put him in chains and throw him in a carriage. I’m too tired to deal with this now.”

 

Three knights swept forward and restrained his arms behind his back before Newt could react. He stared at his false friend, shocked and betrayed, and for a moment he thought he saw something glimmer in those mismatched eyes. But then it was gone, and Newt was hauled away.

 

 

 

{•}

 

 

 

Newt had been thrown into a plain caravan filled with extra clothes, chains bound and locked around his wrists and ankles. He thought desolately of Theseus, of Aberforth. He would most likely never see them again. He thought of Albus, who would be travelling with him to Germany and would probably witness his execution. But mostly, he thought of Gill.

 

God, he had been so stupid. Newt had been played in the most uncouth of ways, and he had no idea why. Why would Prince Gellert want him dead so badly?

 

The door to the caravan swung open, and Newt flinched away from the light. The door slammed shut, a lock clicked, and an ecstatic giggle cut through the dim air. Newt’s eyes widened.

 

“I cannot believe they bought it! Did you see my Uncle’s face? Ha! And you, love, you played your part splendidly!” Prince Gellert exclaimed delightedly as he plopped down on a pile of petticoats. He glanced at Newt and grinned. “You will love Nurmengard, I am certain of it.”

 

Newt stared at him. Then— _anger_.

 

“How could you!” He snarled. He stretched out his bound legs to kick Gellert in the shins. The Prince hissed and caught his ankles before he could repeat the action. “I thought you a friend! You lied to me, you manipulated me, and you got me arrested! What is wrong with you?” Newt fumed as he struggled to free his feet and strike again.

 

“I am your friend!” Prince Gellert answered hastily, affronted. “I am more than your friend, I thought you a lover! I was going to ask you to come back with me but I knew you would not leave without probable cause and—”

 

“So what? You decided to take the decision out of my hands?” Newt snapped, though his heart had stalled and his belly felt full of winged creatures.

 

Gellert huffed and twisted Newt’s legs to pin him to the floor. “I did not lie to you. I gave you my name,”

 

“A nickname!”

 

“Regardless! And manipulation requires unrequited affection, so technically I have not manipulated you either.”

 

“That’s not what constitutes manipulation!” Newt shot back hotly. He opened his mouth to continue ranting, only to have a strawberry candy dropped into his mouth. Startled, Newt closed his mouth and clutched it in his teeth before it could choke him.

 

“Love, does it matter what name I gave you? My character was genuine. Is that not more important than a name? Had I told you who I was, you would have been distant with me.”

 

“To avoid getting arrested!” Newt roared back, incensed. “Which happened anyway, because you _lied to me_!”

 

Gellert scowled and his fists clenched. “I did not plan to fall in love with you! I did not plan any of this! Can you honestly say that you expected this? That you do not love me back?”

 

Hazel eyes sliced into golden sea with flustered fury. “You are marrying Albus!”

 

Any other words abruptly withered in Newt’s throat as Gellert straddled his waist and pushed his shoulders into floor, eyes intent. “I told you my stance on that, did I not? Albus is for power.” He leaned down until his lips brushed Newt’s pinkened ear, platinum ringlets curtaining over the both of them. Their curls tangled, gold and copper, and Gellert laced his fingers through them with a soft breath. “You will be a wonderful concubine.”

 

Newt shuddered, that vicious _thing_ in his abdomen mingling with the dragons in his stomach. Excitement, embarrassment, and indignation warred for shades of red on the planes of his cheeks. His nails bit crescents into his palms. “Never,” He whispered fiercely, despite the snarl want that struck through him. “Never.”

 

Gellert growled and yanked the fistful of curls in his hand. Newt cried out at the sting in his scalp, the brutality making his nerves sing as blunt canines pressed into his bared neck. “ _Always_.”

 

Baring his teeth, Newt met Gellert glare to glare, a storm in his eyes. “You’re destroying any affection I had for you, you silver-tongued _beast_.”

 

“Fine,” The prince snarled. He pressed a hand to Newt’s throat and squeezed in a practiced way that bled sensuality. “Hate me. Wish for my slow and painful death as the masses do. But know that as long as you live that you are mine, and I guard my things jealously.”

 

“I am not a thing! Albus will _never_ stand for this,” Newt felt his head go hazy and his voice turn breathy.

 

Gellert smirked then, eyes dark, and leaned down to brush his mouth across Newt’s. “He loves me. He will do whatever I tell him too. I am persuasive to a fault.” He softened his grip on Newt’s hair to run his fingers through it. “But he is not you. Albus is as you said—arrogant. A bit dull, if I am truthful. He lacks your fire, love.”

 

The abrupt gentleness was disorienting. Damning. Newt swallowed. “I’ll never agree to this. Not now. Not like this.”

 

“Oh, but love,” Gellert smiled and gripped Newt’s restrained arms in one hand, the other pressing another candy to those plush lips. It was shaped like a rose. “You have no choice.”


End file.
